Some time ago, (I believe in the year 1832,) a journal thus records a case analogous in its nature, although less unhappy in its effects: “Some fishermen at Le Conquest, near Brest, were surprised at finding, at two o’clock in the morning, a boy about twelve years old, up to his waist in the sea, fishing for flounders, of which he drew up five or six. Their surprise however was increased to wonder, when, on approaching him, they found that he was _fast asleep_. He was taken home and put to bed, but was immediately afterwards attacked with a raging fever.” IDA. These walkers were of _low degree_; I presume philosophy is not altogether exempt from the fault. EV. Oh no: Galen was a somnambulist; and Franklin assures us, that in a warm bath at Southampton, he floated on his back nearly an hour _in his sleep_. Now that there is an apathy of the senses during somnambulism is clear, for the eyelids are unclosed, and if a candle be held to the eye of the somnambulist, the _actions_ of the _iris_ are seen, but there is seldom aversion of the head to avoid the glare. Was Mrs. Siddons aware of this, when she _smelt_ to her bloody hand, but _did not look upon it_? In sleep-walking, indeed, there is always _one_ at least of the five senses asleep. The actions of somnambulists often appear almost automatic without a reason for them; somewhat resembling instinct, as the beaver will still build his dome for shelter, even under a roof; or as monomaniacs will do a work in _three or four different places_, forgetful of their previous labour. It is evident, too, that there is a dulness of reflection when the progress is impeded. The somnambulist will try to _move on in a straight line_, overturning things in his course: thus Mathews, in _Somno_, overturned the tables, but had not the judgment to _go round_ them. Under very great obstruction to their progress, the somnambulists will sometimes burst into tears.